Swimming
by Madilayn
Summary: Penelope watches Gordon swimming. Rated M for content and implications


She knew he was good. Had even found and watched the holovid of his Olympic win. She'd seen his name in the record books – he had held for the last six years the world record for the fastest freestyle swim for several distances; including some impressively long ones. Even so, she still didn't equate it with Gordon. Not the Gordon she knew anyway.

Or thought she knew.

In fact, she had been forced several times to re-evaluate Gordon, because there was something about him that defied categorisation. Every time you thought that you knew who Gordon was, something changed.

Now she sat in the large covered area near the pool watching him swimming laps. There was a soothing rhythm to his swimming; he didn't just power through the water as he swam. He cut through it, almost as if the water parted in front of him. She'd tried to see a pattern in his choice of strokes, but it almost seemed like a whim as he changed strokes. Now, she was lulled as he breast stroked.

In the water, he was grace personified. It was his element; just as space was John's.

She relaxed against the cushions, her book forgotten as she watched him, his movements were almost hypnotic and she felt herself drifting away, focusing on his body as it moved through the water, watching the play of his muscles as he moved. And he was certainly worth watching, she admitted to herself.

Penelope found herself mesmerised by the way the muscles in his back and shoulders bunched with each stroke, and through the clear water, she could see his legs moving. In the water, he was all clean lines, grace and power.

Out of the water, those lines were blurred somewhat. Muscles covered by ridiculous slightly oversized shirts and tattered jeans. Hints were given in his uniform, but they were only hints, Gordon's true physique often overshadowed by Virgil's broadness or Scott and John's height.

Gordon Tracy – jokester, eternal child. Enthusiastic puppy. That's what he wanted the world to see.

She had discovered that what he showed the world was far from being the true Gordon Tracy.

Gordon Tracy – the consummate professional when it came to rescues. She knew that Gordon. She'd even seen it first had, knew how soothing his voice was, how gentle he could be, and how safe he made you feel.

It was something he shared with all his brothers; and definitely one of the reasons that made International Rescue so successful. When they announced themselves, those they came to help just knew that they were safe – that everything would be all right.

Her reverie was interrupted as Gordon exploded from a turn in the pool, and Penelope's whole body started to tingle at the sheer power that was Gordon Tracy doing butterfly.

This was what he had won a gold medal in. This, the single hardest swimming stroke, the one that needed technique and power as much as speed.

She could only see his arm and back muscles as he swam, but she could imagine what he looked like, with all of the muscles in his torso working to sustain his movement.

That lovely muscular torso, hard as she ran her hands over his tanned, slightly rough skin. Skin that was taught beneath her hands, taught as she kissed, licked and nibbled her way down his body when they made love. Skin that always tasted slightly salty – from the water he spent time in (salt water from the pool or the ocean – it didn't matter) or from exertion following and during his (as he said) _other_ favourite form of exercise.

And, with this particular man, hers.

Penelope didn't notice when she stopped watching Gordon swim and closed her eyes, thinking of the last time they had made love. It had been a couple of weeks ago, and her need for him had driven her to the Island now.

She wasn't even sure if he knew that she was there – Gordon and Virgil had been out on a rescue, and so she'd wandered down to the pool to wait for his return.

On his return, she'd watched as he approached the pool, still in uniform, only to strip it off and dive in.

So she had watched. Knowing that he was naked. And then mesmerised by him. As she so often was.

Penelope's hands stroked her own soft skin on her stomach, her mind turning it into Gordon's touch. Her soft hand replaced with his larger, calloused one. Knowing that his hand would soon turn into his mouth; for as much as she loved to taste his body, he loved to do the same to her.

Oh yes… sex with Gordon Tracy was something that she really couldn't get enough of. It made loving, and being loved by him, even better.

She became lost in her thoughts, some small part of her mind managing to keep her from touching herself where she desperately needed to be touched.

Suddenly, she was aware of being touched, a familiar hand on her body and her eyes opened to a shaded environment, where there had been bright sunlight before.

And _he_ was there; all naked slightly damp body, hair sticking up in spikes where he had rubbed it with a towel. All hard muscles, and soft brown eyes, lit with a smile and desire. His mouth – lips that could be hard and punishing, or soft and yielding all at once was smiling down at her; and she couldn't help but to notice that his body was also showing pleasure at her being there.

"Now this is a lovely surprise to find when I got out of the pool," he said before leaning down and kissing her. "Hello darling," he said after they broke the kiss.

"Gordon," she breathed happily, her arms reaching up to draw him down to her again. "I had to come. I missed you so much."

And now he was lying beside her, propped up on one arm as the other hand stroked her body, maddeningly not touching those parts of her desperate for his touch; although she could feel how he needed her as well.

Finally, his hands did what she could never work out how – he seemed to stroke off the bikini she was wearing and she lay naked under his gaze. "Oh my sweet Penny," he said, his eye colour warming with desire as his hands and mouth touched her in just the way that she had been fantasising about.

Her own hands started to stroke him, revelling in how he felt under them, revelling in his weight on her until a breeze suddenly chilled her slightly.

"Gordon! Where are we?" She tried to get up as she realised that she was still where she started... but not…

"It's all right, Penny. I've pulled down the walls." He kissed her lovingly. "You know, you were so deep in thought that One could have taken off and you wouldn't have noticed."

"I was thinking about you," she said candidly. "And making love to you. And how much I love you."

And Gordon Tracy exercised yet another muscle and answered her the only way a wise man would, and proceeded to turn her recent fantasies to reality.


End file.
